


Comforter

by LadyoftheWoods



Series: Supportive Sides [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Gets A Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Mild Suicidal Thoughts, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Sympathetic Morality | Patton Sanders, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23504245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: Deceit is not ok. Remus knows the only side who can help.
Series: Supportive Sides [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688140
Comments: 30
Kudos: 274





	Comforter

**Author's Note:**

> All of them are just such good beans who deserve lots of hugs, ok?

He’s tired. He's emptily, exhaustedly tired. He's burrowed under all his blankets, his heating pad, and he still isn’t warm. He’s never warm. He is tired, so tired, but he can't sleep, won't sleep. 

He shivers, curling tighter under the covers, not even his head poking out from under them, and wonders about the chances of accidently smothering himself. 

Wouldn’t that be ironic? After everyone has made clear how much he isn’t wanted, if he were to accidentally off himself, and solve their problem for them. 

He can hear his stomach rumbling, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t have the energy to find food. That would require getting up, which is off the table. Moving at all, is barely achievable. Just continuing to breathe takes all his will, the goal of moving is laughable. 

He can feel the loathing. It crawls up his spine and settles in his stomach. It weighs him down and burns like stinging nettles over each inch of his skin. His cheeks are burning and he feels hot, angry tears dripping down his face. 

If he was better, maybe they would listen to him, like him, care about him. But he’s not going to stop doing his job just because they don’t like it, and maybe he would be willing to open up a little, if they’d ever given him a single iota of a reason to trust them. 

And he will never earn their trust because they only see him as a liar, as a trickster, as a villain. 

He lets out a soft sob, hugging the pillow he’d slept with closer to his chest, burying his face in it. 

God, it still smelled like Virgil, his favorite coffee, ink, paper. The pillowcase had been in the laundry when he left, it hadn’t moved with his room. 

Just the thought makes him choke out another quiet sob and hold the pillow tighter. He knows that’s his fault, too, and the guilt just adds to his loathing because he misses Virgil. He misses him like one of his arms has been torn off, like his scales when they first came in, like the heat of the sun in his skin. 

A quiet knock. He knows who it will be. There’s only one person who cares enough to come looking, who cares at all. He doesn’t respond. The door creaks open anyways. 

“DeeDee?” he manages to make his sniffles quieter, barely shaking under the blankets now, not that Remus has ever judged him for these episodes. It’s their silent pact, the others judge enough for both of them. They just accept each other unconditionally. Once Virgil did, too. But he’s gone and hates them now and it’s his fault. 

“DeeDee, can you at least eat something for me? Please?” the others wouldn’t believe that Remus is capable of being quiet or gentle or soft, but he can be, he is now, he always is when it comes to him, and for some reason it just breaks him more. 

“No.” he manages to get out through his shaky voice and hoarse throat. Even that is like climbing a mountain in its difficulty. 

“Dee, please. Just try, just a little?” Remus is almost pleading, but he just shakes his head, summoning the effort for words. 

“Can’t. Will just come back up.” His voice trembles. He hates that Remus is here, hates being seen like this, hates that he is this. This pathetic lump who doesn’t even have the care to move, who won’t eat, who is denying all his survival instincts when he is literally the embodiment of someone’s survival instincts. 

“Dee, it’s been days. You’re going to kill yourself at this rate.” A hint of desperation tinges Remus's voice, and he laughs. Broken, shattered laughter. 

“I should. It would make things so much easier, wouldn’t it? If I just…” he chokes on the bitterness of his own words, hate, hate, hate, eating at him, tearing him apart inside, because he hurts and he deserves it. 

He hears the sound of sinking out. Remus is gone. Left him, because he pushed him away. Just like Virgil. God, he never learns, does he? He truly is worthless, truly, deserves to be alone. 

He hears the door again. It could be minutes, could be hours, later. No one speaks, but he hears quiet, hesitant, footsteps. Or he thinks he does, he’s gone long enough without sleep to start hallucinating. 

“Deceit?” ah, hallucinating it is, because that is Patton’s voice, and he would never, has never, come to his room. Doesn’t even know where it is. “Deceit, are you… feeling ok?” he laughs again, that broken, edged with glass laugh that cuts his throat raw, sends tears streaming down his face, curling tighter into his pillow. 

“That’s a laugh and a half.” His voice is rough, scraped and bruised and battered. He knows how this goes. He knows the script. 

Knows that Patton will tell him he’s wrong, Thomas doesn’t need to lie, doesn’t need Deceit, and he will be unable to defend himself because not even he can lie that well. He is anything but needed. He would have let go, let himself fade ages ago, but he promised Remus he wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t leave Remus alone like that, not after Virgil left, and it was his fault, and besides... he could wait. 

Sooner rather than later, he knows the others will come to accept Remus. He’s so much like Roman, he’s half of creativity, after all, and Virgil doesn’t hate Remus, not like Virgil hates him. Thomas is already open to discussing the more helpful of the dark topics only Remus has domain over, it won’t be long now. 

He’s happy for Remus, he truly is. Remus deserves that light, that acceptance, that warmth. Remus deserves to be heard and listened to and surrounded by their love. Remus is a star, a brilliant, burning star, and soon the others will know it too. 

Then he will be left all alone, in the dark and the cold and the quiet. That’s what he longs for, what he aches for, the emptiness that he will let fill him, let weigh down his limbs, let soak into him until he can’t move, doesn’t need to breathe, until he just... vanishes. But not until Remus is gone, and settled. Not until Remus forgets about him down here, just like everyone else, and he can go quietly and peacefully without upsetting anyone. Because even though they all hate him, he is still afraid of upsetting them. 

“Oh, kiddo...” Patton. He’s forgotten about his hallucination of Patton. He wonders idly if he’s speaking out loud or thinking in his head, he can’t quite tell the difference anymore, and he wouldn’t really care either way, except that means his grasp is slipping and he cannot, will not, fall asleep. 

“Why not, Deceit?” He chokes back the fear that floods him, that even thinking of why not brings. Why not? Oh, what hasn’t he seen, in those dreams, in the dreams that already come when he’s at his lowest, when he can’t keep himself together, that drive him deeper and deeper into his own apathy, and loathing and disconnect? 

He sees Virgil, trying to leave, wanting to leave, and instead he grabs, forces him back, locks him up, chains him, tortures him, reprograms him. The whole time he is screaming, screaming inside, screaming at himself to stop, what are you doing, just let him go, Virgil, no, please! 

He sees Remus, torn apart by some fanged, clawed, venom laced monster, and he can’t get to him in time, he can’t stop the bleeding, he doesn’t know the antivenom, if there is antivenom, and Remus is seizing in his arms, shaking violently, babbling incoherently, but his eyes are clear as they meet his, and he wants to scream or cry or make it all ok, but it’s not, because Remus is bleeding out in his arms, he is dying and he cannot fix it and Remus knows it too, forgiving him and saying a thousand loving goodbyes with his eyes- 

He sees Logan, losing his mind, having enough of their small jabs and their inattention, a victim to all the feelings Logan has and is pretending don’t exist, shifting and changing and warping like a distorted mirror until nothing Logan was left, and Insanity stood in his place, wild and manic and broken, and he couldn’t put this right, couldn’t help but shift Insanity’s room to the dark side, knowing he’d be blamed, knowing they would come for him and demand answers and not believe him and he would take it all, because Logan was gone, and he had to protect them, because Insanity would tear them apart in the exact same way Logan had always built them up. 

He saw Roman, usually so proud and loud and strong and vibrant, now colored in shades of gray, every trace of emotion leaking out of him, all of his passion and strength and hope fading out as the bruised ego has had enough, can’t take it anymore, as he fades into Apathy, and the others don’t understand, don’t even notice the difference, just continue to demand ideas and inspiration and he is powerless to help Roman, because they won’t let him anywhere near him, they don’t understand! 

He sees Patton, his worst enemy, his harshest critic, his greatest rival, exploding like a supernova. All the emotions are too much, too overwhelming, he’s lied to himself about the bad ones for too long, and the mindscape is torn apart by their strength and he tries to reach Patton through the supernovas exploding in the dark, he manages to take his hand, he manages to swallow Patton’s pain, he manages to hold it all inside him as it explodes, tears him apart, tears him to shreds, and it hurts, it hurts exquisitely, and he knows it will kill him, but it won’t destroy the mindscape, inside of him. It won’t destroy Patton, and that’s the important thing, because no one needs him, no one wants him, anyway, and Patton is more important, Patton is worth something, despite everything between them, he would throw himself in front of any danger to protect Patton, because that is his job, and Patton is needed, in a way he is not, will never be needed. Patton is wanted in the same way that he is not, and now he is gone. 

He is shaking again. Shaking so hard his teeth are nearly chattering, because now that the images are there he can’t make them leave, he sees them in front of his eyes, whether they’re open or closed, and he wishes this figment of Patton would just leave, just leave him to his misery because it is only going to get worse from here, he is only going to fall apart more, and even an imaginary Patton witnessing this is too much to bear. 

But part of him wants Patton to stay, because if Patton leaves, then it will be one of the others, and though Patton is cruel, at least he is unintentional in his coldness. He knows Roman’s fiery vitriol will burn him, knows Logan’s cold analysis will break him, knows Virgil’s biting words will lash his skin like a thousand whips from a cat o nine tails, knows that Patton is the first of a long list of cruelties his own mind will subject him to, because his own mind recognizes that he deserves the punishment, deserves the pain, deserves to be hated and abandoned and destroyed and he desperately, desperately wants to let it all go, knows exactly how easy it would be to let go, how much time it would take, exactly where in the subconscious he will hide so no one will find, not that they’d come looking, but still, ever present, is Remus. Not yet, he has to hold on, he has to, because he won’t, won’t leave Remus, at least until Remus leaves him for better and brighter things, takes his rightful place up there, with the others. 

He feels something. Fingers, gently teasing through his hair, the only part of him peeking out from the covers. He flinches at first, and they pause, but after a moment continue, and he realizes he hears humming as well, though it is shaky, shaky as his own voice was the last time he spoke. Or remembered speaking, he can’t tell the difference anymore between thoughts and words. 

Then the thought hits him and he jerks upright, clutching the blanket to his chest, trembling as he looks at Patton, feeling shame and bile rise in his throat, because hallucinations can’t touch, have never physically touched him before, so this isn’t a figment, this is actually Patton, he just said all that to the actual Patton. 

And now... well, now he knows. Now Patton knows every one of his weaknesses, every one of his fears, every one of his regrets and mistakes and they will be used against him and laughed at later as Patton tells the others what a hopeless, stupid fool Deceit is, as if he had any more to lose, when it came to them, as if they could resent him and antagonize him more if they tried. 

He closes his eyes and pulls his knees to his chest, still hugging his pillow around his middle, burying his face back in it, where he can pretend this isn’t happening, pretend that Patton hasn’t somehow ended up in his room, pretend that he’s nothing and no one and doesn’t exist because if he did the shame would be eating him alive right now as he cries into a pillow that still smells of his lost best friend. 

Pathetic, and weak, and useless, and stupid, and a waste, a waste of time, of space, of words, of energy. 

“Oh... oh honey, no.” The gentleness in Patton’s voice makes him flinch, so different than what he is accustomed to, it throws him off guard. At least with the vitriol he knew what to expect, could brace himself, he doesn’t know what this kindness means or is leading towards. 

He feels arms around him. Patton’s arms. Hugging him. And God it is heaven. It is warm, so comfortingly warm, the world seems muted, his mind too stunned to think, too cozy and warm and trying to process touch, being touched, he is being touched, and it is nice and he isn’t cold. 

Then he practically falls into Patton’s lap, still curled tight, still holding the pillow tight, face now pressing against Patton’s cardigan, his scent of warm, clean laundry and chocolate chip cookies, he is soft and warm, and Patton’s arms are around him, holding him, rocking him, murmuring soft, kind, loving, words, and he’s shocked at every single one of them, because Patton isn’t lying, Patton believes what he’s saying. 

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that. Patton’s shirt is nearly soaked with his tears. Patton is rubbing circles on his back, and it feels so damn good, he can’t find it in him to pull away, as much as his reputation demands it. He figures his reputation is screwed after this anyway. 

“How... how did you get in here?” He manages to croak out. He feels Patton let out a soft laugh. 

“We were in the living room and Remus just kinda popped up out of nowhere and grabbed me. He didn’t say much, but he was worried and more serious than I’ve ever seen him, so I just kinda went with it. I... I'm sorry, Deceit. I’m sorry, that we made you feel this way. I’m sorry we made you feel like you couldn’t tell us you were feeling this way. I’m sorry we haven’t... I haven’t, been treating you right. I will do better. I will make sure everyone does better.” He’s crying again, because Patton isn’t lying, Patton means it, and once Patton sets his heart on something it is near impossible to stop him. He feels Patton’s arms tighten, holding him closer, and he somehow melts even more into the touch, when had he ever been held like this? He thinks he might die, if Patton lets go of him. 

“Deceit... how long?” He shrugs. 

“This episode? Nearly a week. Usually... usually it doesn’t hit this hard. Last month it was only three. I... every month. At least one... one episode a month. Since... God, since forever.” He mumbles, sniffling, feeling Patton’s sharp inhale. 

“Baby, baby, baby, no. Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t want you to fade, I don’t want you to disappear. Please... please if you ever think you’re about to do that, please talk to someone first. It doesn’t have to be me, if you’re not comfortable with that, just someone. Because we would fall apart without you, sweetie, we really, really would.” He’s sobbing again, he can’t seem to stop sobbing, every time he thinks he’s cried himself out, Patton says something else kind or sweet and means it, and he doesn’t know how to handle that, doesn’t know what to do with the care being directed his way, because no one besides Remus cares, and he doesn’t show care like this, like Patton does. 

He feels Patton start to pull away. The air is cold, jarringly cold, and he finds himself shivering, his skin burning where Patton had been touching it. He can feel Patton looking at him, frowning at him, and he wonders what he did wrong, this time. 

“Nothing, honey. I’m just trying to decide what we should do first. I... Deceit, when was the last time you were hugged?” His face burns, even though he knows the question isn’t intended to shame him. 

“Not... not since Virgil... left. Before then only to help him, when he was having an attack... afterwards, to help soothe him. Barely ever.” Patton makes an injured noise in the back of his throat. 

“ok. Ok. That’s... I think... I think you’re touch starved, Deceit. And almost actually starving by now. And sleep deprived. So, which of those problems do you wanna tackle first?” He doesn’t know. He can’t think straight. He doesn’t want to sleep, he hates the idea of it right now, but he won’t be any kind of coherent for much longer, and he knows it. He voices as much. 

“That’s ok. We can tackle two of them at once then, if you don’t mind.” He looks at Patton with confusion. 

“Mind?” 

“Cuddling. The best way to help with touch starvation is to experience touch, and the best way to do that is to cuddle! It might... it might help with the nightmares, too. Help you feel safer. And if you wake up from one, I’ll be right here.” The thought of sleep still terrifies him, but he feels a little better about it, if Patton is going to stay. 

“...ok. will... will you be ok? In here?” Patton thinks for a moment, tilting his head and pursing his lips. 

“Not with as long as you’ll be sleeping. Can we get you settled on the couch?” His face pales at that thought, because what if the others come in, he can’t handle Roman waving his sword, or Virgil’s sneer, or Logan’s coldness. “down here, Dee. As long as I’m not in someone’s room, I’ll be fine. I know you don’t wanna move. Can I sink us there?” He lets out a breath of relief, nodding. He would, but he doesn’t have the energy. 

They land right on top of the couch, perfect aim. Immediately Patton busies himself, pulling out the futon and gathering blankets, tucking them in, humming as he quickly gets everything settled. He’s already under them, Patton having worked around him, and he feels himself slipping. He’s shaking again, as he lays down, then he feels Patton settle in behind him, curling around him like a cat around her kitten, swallowing him in warmth and heat and soft, and he rolls over to once again bury his face against Patton’s cardigan as he curls tight against him. 

Patton is stroking his hair, rubbing his back, humming softly. He feels Patton rest his head atop his own, feels him gently kiss his unruly, curly hair, usually hidden beneath his hat, and the sensation sends tingles of warmth radiating through him. It takes his breath away, it fills something inside of him that he didn’t know was empty, it radiates peace and comfort and nearly overwhelming love that burns him in a good way. 

He’s barely awake when he hears Remus. He can’t bother himself to open his eyes, but he hears Patton reassuring his little slimeball that he’s going to be ok, that Patton is going to make sure it never gets this bad again, and if it does, Remus has full permission to drag him away no matter what he is doing to help. Tentatively, Remus asks something, and Patton’s voice is smiling as he affirms. 

Then he feels warmth on his other side, feels more arms wrapping around him, hears Remus whispering apologies and mild death threats, and his own version of words of comfort and kindness, which he has long ago learned to understand. 

He is crying again as he finally, finally lets himself fall asleep. But these tears are happy. Because he feels the warmth emanating through him, he is sandwiched between two people who somehow, somehow, love him. He isn’t afraid, this time, as he feels oblivion weighing him down, and he knows, knows, that nightmares won’t dare to touch him this time, not with so much love surrounding him. Not with the promise of more warmth to come. Not when he actually, for the first time in forever, knows he has something to live for.


End file.
